


Necropants

by veeagainst



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Silly, necropants, very silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 12:24:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14056950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veeagainst/pseuds/veeagainst
Summary: For the challenge 'haunted trousers'





	Necropants

**Author's Note:**

> Necropants are a quasi-real thing, and you can see them at the Holmavik Museum of Witchcraft and Sorcery. I have a blurry photo of them from my visit. You can read about them here: http://icelandmag.is/article/macabre-necropants-made-dead-mans-skin-display-holmavik

‘Necro _pants_?’ Sirius repeats incredulously.

 

Magnus nods, a very earnest look on his face.

 

‘ _Pants_?’ Sirius says again.

 

‘Wait,’ Remus interjects. ‘Magnus, have you spent any time in America?’

 

‘I studied in New York City for a year under Gunnar Gislason,’ Magnus says proudly.

 

Remus turns to Sirius. ‘They use the word “pants” differently than we do. Means “trousers”.’

 

‘Wait, what did you think I meant?’ Magnus asks as the dawn of understanding rises on Sirius’s face.

 

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Remus says quickly. ‘Tell us more.’

 

‘So a dark wizard skins another wizard – has to be a wizard, no witches, because, well, you’ll see – from the waist down, and then if he puts a coin into the scrotum, he gets an endless supply of money.’

 

Remus blinks several times while Sirius looks horrified. ‘Wait,’ Remus says, ‘you’re worried that some of the Death Eaters are going to do this?’

 

‘I’m worried they already have,’ Magnus says darkly.

 

‘Great,’ Sirius says, sounding slightly hysterical. ‘So we’ll just be on the lookout for someone wearing someone else as trousers then.’

 

***

That night, as Remus is lying in his bed with a book, Sirius pops his head through the door. ‘Do you think they wear the necrotrousers under other trousers? Are they warm?’

 

Remus, used to his flatmate’s attitude to privacy after sharing a room at Hogwarts and now a flat for a combined total of almost nine years, considers. ‘They're probably hairy,’ he opines. ‘Like wearing a fur coat.’

 

Sirius seems satisfied and disappears.

 

***

The next morning, as Remus is making an egg, Sirius walks in with purpose and says without preamble, ‘D’you think they’re stretchy, or can you just not choose a wizard who’s shorter than you?’

 

Remus flips the egg. ‘Maybe you tan them,’ he suggests. ‘I think that stretches them out a bit.’

 

‘So you don’t want to get a taller wizard?’

 

‘Hmm,’ Remus says. ‘I think you can shrink leather if you wash it in hot water, but you know, I’m honestly not sure.’

 

‘Leather?’ Sirius repeats.

 

‘It’s just skin,’ Remus says.

 

Sirius makes a face.

 

***

‘What do you think they smell like?’

 

Remus frowns. ‘Bad?’

 

‘Yeah?’

 

‘Think about a ballsack,’ Remus suggests poetically. ‘Now think about it getting sweaty because its owner is about to be murdered. Do you think that smells good?’

 

‘I’d wash them.’

 

‘Then they’d shrink.’

 

‘In cold water,’ Sirius specifies.

 

***

‘Do you think it matters what kind of coin it is?’

 

‘Not at all.’

 

‘So if I put a knut in there…?’

 

Remus has to dig his fingernails into his hand to stop himself from laughing. ‘Personally, I think the only coinage to use is a knut.’

 

Sirius throws a spoon at him.

 

***

Sirius puts down the paper and looks up at Remus. ‘If you’re keeping a coin in the scrotum, then where exactly are you keeping your scrotum?’

 

Remus frowns. ‘Is your scrotum so big that a coin will keep it from fitting in another scrotum?’

 

‘I dunno,’ Sirius says, looking worried. ‘Maybe.’

 

Remus raises his eyebrows, interested in spite of himself. ‘Really? Do you have particularly weighty nadgers?’

 

‘I might. It’s not like I’ve gotten to compare them to others.’

 

Remus snorts. ‘We’ve both seen James’s about a hundred times. I could probably draw them from memory. How do yours compare to those?’

 

Sirius squints into the middle distance, clearly recollecting the last time he saw James teabagging one of them. To be fair, Remus thinks, it’s been a few years. ‘I think mine might be bigger.’

 

‘Ok then,’ Remus says, returning to his book. ‘Just don’t kill James. Or if you do, don’t kill him for his skin.’

 

***

Remus is shaving in front of the mirror, having just stepped out of the bath; despite having the window cracked, it’s hot and steamy, and he hasn’t bothered to dress. The door swings open and Sirius walks in; stops dead; seemingly involuntarily does a complete once-over of Remus’s naked body; and lingers, eyes widening, with his look on the groin region.

 

‘What?’ Remus asks, startled. ‘Are you sizing me up to flay me?’

 

Sirius makes a strange noise, turns tomato red, mumbles, ‘Sorry,’ and exits, slamming the door behind him.

 

Remus stares at the door for a second before turning back to his reflection.

 

_Well, that was interesting._

 

He’s known for years that Sirius’s sexuality isn’t (heh) _straight_ forward, mainly because, as one of the few queer students at Hogwarts himself, he’s learned from necessity how to spot others. But he’s always assumed that Sirius is just not interested in sex – after all, he’s absolutely gorgeous and could have anyone, male or female, that he wants, and yet has never been in a relationship.

 

But that look he’d just given Remus –

 

(or rather, a particular part of Remus)

 

 _Well_.

 

Remus’s first instinct is to fuck with him, but that seems mean-spirited. When he’s dressed, he discovers that Sirius has left the flat, which convinces him that fucking with him is (probably) the wrong idea.

 

He owls Lily.

***

Lily looks between her soda and lime and his pint a little forlornly. ‘All right, you called me to a Muggle pub at eleven in the morning on a Sunday. Is this about a heretofore unmentioned love of football?’

 

Remus takes a sip of his pint and raises an eyebrow. ‘Do you want it to be?’

 

‘Honestly, I’m hoping for something a bit more interesting,’ she says, grinning. ‘What’s going on?’

 

Lily and Remus have been friends since they were prefects; the fact that they were two of the only people in Gryffindor who had Muggle family drew them together as well. Remus adores James, Peter, and Sirius but finds that sometimes there are things he can talk to Lily about that they would never understand.

 

She’s also a great person with whom to talk shit about one of those three without it immediately getting back to its subject.

 

‘Do you think Sirius might fancy me?’

 

Lily chokes slightly on her drink and coughs. ‘Sorry, what?’

 

Remus shrugs. ‘Just wondering.’

 

‘Really?’

 

He nods.

 

She bites her lip and frowns. ‘I’ve honestly never thought about it.’ She pauses, frown deepening. ‘I’ve never thought about Sirius fancying anyone. He always seems so intense about your friendship…’ She stops frowning and looks up at Remus. ‘Hmm.’

 

‘Yeah,’ Remus says. ‘I’ve been thinking about that a lot too.’

 

Lily gives him an appraising look. ‘Do you fancy him?’

 

They’ve never discussed his sexuality, which he generally defines as Anything Goes, but he hasn’t hidden it from her either, and he suspects she has an inkling. For a second, he thinks about his annoying flatmate Sirius, and recoils. ‘I don’t think so.’

 

‘But maybe?’ Lily asks, very sweetly.

 

‘No, definitely not,’ Remus says, now unnerved.

 

‘Mm,’ Lily says, annoyingly.

 

‘Listen,’ Remus says, becoming more concerned about his own feelings by the second, ‘all I want from you is permission to take the piss a bit.’

 

Lily squints. ‘You want _my_ permission so _you_ can take the piss from _Sirius_? What do I have to do with it?’

 

‘Ever since we were prefects, you’ve been my moral conscience.’

 

‘Bullshit.’

 

‘The baby can probably hear you, you know.’

 

Lily rolls her eyes. ‘Then he can also hear your ridiculous scheming.’ She gets a serious look on her face. ‘I won’t sanction you emotionally torturing the poor boy, but I will sanction flirting. Which, knowing how tightly wound he is, might amount to the same thing.’

 

***

Upon leaving the pub, Remus walks aimlessly through the park, sifting through almost a decade of emotional strata left behind by interacting with Sirius. What he excavates is disquieting, to say the least.

 

He opens the door to the flat and finds that Sirius is still gone. Immediately and irrationally – and, perhaps worse, knowing how irrational it is – he gets annoyed.

 

Operation Fuck With/Flirt With is definitely on.

 

***

The next morning, Remus puts on his tightest vest and stands in front of the open window for a minute until every outline of his upper body – notably his nipples – is very clear. Then he selects two of his five shirts and strolls out of the bedroom to where Sirius is seated with his morning tea.

 

‘Which shirt should I wear?’ he asks.

 

Sirius looks up and gets a strange, glassy-eyed expression, then looks down again quickly. ‘What’s the occasion?’

 

‘Oh, thinking of what might match my necropants,’ Remus says breezily. ‘Which, do you think?’

 

‘Um,’ Sirius says. ‘The one on the right.’

 

‘My right or your right?’

 

Sirius glances up and then down almost immediately. He’s blushing again, Remus notes. ‘The green one.’

 

‘Hm,’ Remus says.

 

‘It’ll look nice with your eyes,’ Sirius says in a weird voice, and then he stands up, dumps what appears to be a full cup of tea down the sink, and says, ‘Ok, well, I’m off,’ before disappearing out the door in March without a coat.

 

***

Sirius is attempting to fulfil item one on their currently twenty-two item to-do list for the flat, which is to clean the floor. Mostly, he’s lying on the couch with a broom beside him, listening to records. Remus is contemplating list item number five, organise the bookshelf, when Sirius says, ‘Do you think you put your cock inside the cock skin?’

 

‘Is this going to be another question about sizing?’ Remus wonders aloud, bending down to the bottom shelf and looking at the pile of their old school spellbooks.

 

There’s no reply. Remus glances back and sees that Sirius has a blank look on his face.

 

He thinks Sirius might have just been checking out his bum.

 

He returns to organising the bottom shelf, fully bent over, turned slightly to the side to try to catch Sirius’s reaction.

 

‘I suppose it is a question about sizing,’ Sirius says, a moment later, his voice a little distant. ‘I mean, is it stretchy?’

 

‘Probably restrictive,’ Remus speculates. ‘Certainly would be on me, of course.’ He’s not sure how to escalate this bending over situation. Experimentally, he rolls up his sleeves and lifts up a large stack of books, doing his best to flex a bit. He turns to Sirius to ask him if they need these spellbooks anymore.

 

Sirius has tugged a pillow onto his lap and is staring resolutely at the ceiling.

 

***

Remus actually does stain his trousers making pasta for dinner, but it seems like a happy coincidence, so he consciously performs a poor cleaning charm and then artfully drapes them over the radiator. When Sirius walks into the kitchen, Remus is without trousers, wearing pants mostly concealed beneath his shirttails.

 

‘Um,’ Sirius says.

 

‘I spilled the tomato sauce,’ Remus says, trying to sound apologetic. Sirius, he notes, is keeping his gaze locked at head height or above.

 

‘I can, um, just do a drying spell,’ Sirius says, reaching for the trousers.

 

‘No matter,’ Remus says cheerfully. ‘Maybe I can borrow your skin?’

 

‘I’ll just dry them,’ Sirius says, very firmly.

 

Remus is annoyed at himself for being so disappointed.

 

***

Emboldened by beer, Remus leans over to Sirius at the Leaky Cauldron when James and Peter are up at the bar and whispers, ‘Dearborn looks quite fit tonight, doesn’t he?’

 

Sirius nearly does a spit-take, but manages to sputter, ‘Dearborn’s a lad, in case you haven’t noticed.’

 

‘Tough to notice from behind,’ Remus replies innocently. There’s silence from Sirius, so he adds, ‘Just thought we were checking out potential necropants.’

 

‘Too tall,’ Sirius mutters.

 

When James and Peter return, Remus leans forward and makes sure that his leg is touching Sirius’s. Sirius doesn’t say a word for the rest of the night and goes to bed immediately once they get home.

 

***

Remus decides that he’ll try one more thing; the morning after the pub, he’s feeling a bit ashamed of himself, like maybe he pushed it too far because he was tipsy. Maybe he’s completely misreading the situation.

 

Maybe Sirius’s seeming inability to cope with any suggestion that he and Remus might fuck is real.

 

Unfortunately for Remus, now he really does want to fuck. He’s been having a lot of… dreams.

 

And daydreams.

 

It is once again Sunday morning, a week since The Walking In On Incident.

 

Sirius is sitting on the couch with the Daily Prophet folded open to the crossword, working diligently on it as he does every Sunday. Remus slides onto the couch – normal behaviour – and seats himself much too close to Sirius – not normal behaviour.

 

‘Moony,’ Sirius says. ‘What are you doing?’

 

‘I think that one’s wrong,’ Remus says, reaching for Sirius’s quill and blindly gesturing at one of the words. Sirius lets him have the quill, frowning, so Remus continues with the ruse, going to scratch out the first answer.

 

‘Wait,’ Sirius says, grabbing Remus’s hand. ‘That’s not wrong.’

 

‘Yes it is.’

 

‘Simple spell for a mess? That is absolutely Cleansio.’

 

Remus struggles to cross it out, while Sirius struggles to hold back his quill.

 

‘You’ll destroy my crossword!’ he snaps.

 

‘It’s wrong!’

 

‘It is not!’

 

The paper starts to rip. Sirius lets go, presumably rather than see his precious crossword torn, and instead tackles Remus around the middle. Remus lets out a whoosh of air and falls over – _perfect_ – and they wind up grappling on the couch, paper and quill lost in the frenzy, until they roll off of it. Remus lets Sirius pin him without much of a fight. Sirius, red-faced and out of breath, looms over him, seemingly not wanting to put his full weight down.

 

Remus is really fucking turned on.

 

‘Why are you doing this?’ Sirius pants.

 

‘Doing what?’ Remus asks, very innocently.

 

‘ _This_ ,’ Sirius repeats, removing one hand from Remus’s wrist to gesture at the world at large.

 

Mistake. Remus flips him over easily and lets his full weight crash onto Sirius’s lower body. Sirius makes a noise that sounds a lot sexier than a complaint. Remus wonders if Sirius can feel his hard-on. ‘Listen,’ Remus says, as faux-earnestly as he can, ‘I’ve just been thinking a lot about what we talked about with Magnus…’

 

Sirius snarls and tries to bite Remus’s wrist. Remus presses down harder on Sirius and – what’s that –

 

 _Oh_.

 

Sirius is extremely turned on as well.

 

Sirius has gone completely still, head partially turned, mouth on Remus’s arm. They’re both breathing very hard. Remus pushes his hip experimentally against Sirius’s erection. Sirius makes a little noise and instead of biting Remus, he kisses his wrist.

 

‘Padfoot,’ Remus says, startled by how much he wants this.

 

Sirius turns his head back and looks at Remus. He asks, very quietly, ‘Why are you doing this?’

 

Remus releases Sirius’s arms and instead cups his face, leaning down and kissing him. Sirius presses up into him with his whole body, and Remus melts against him, fitting their bodies together. When he finally leans back from the kiss, he says, ‘For that, I think.’

 

‘Sorry for walking in on you,’ Sirius says, eyes wide.

 

‘You have no concept of personal space,’ Remus replies, heart racing.

 

‘Not with you,’ Sirius points out.

 

‘Well,’ Remus says, out of witty banter, ‘I might as well give up on having any then.’

 

***

The next morning, Remus is drowsing, Sirius’s arm wrapped around his chest, Sirius’s breath warm on his neck, and Sirius’s naked body at his back. He’s never felt so content. He starts to wake properly, and Sirius nuzzles into his shoulder.

 

‘Morning,’ Remus murmurs. ‘How are you?’

 

‘I could not be better,’ Sirius says, ‘but I’ve got one question.’

 

‘Mm?’ Remus asks, turning in Sirius’s arms to look at his face.

 

Sirius has a deeply pensive look. ‘Do you think I should have taken the necropants off for fucking?’


End file.
